In the dark soil I wait. It is silent here.
For the longest time I dreamed of sunlight. I remembered the gentle kiss of the breeze.
Before I fell.
Now I am blind. Hidden here, waiting.
There were days I wished it sooner. I wept in frustration, put my mind to the task. I will grow! I can do this thing! Onwards!
A millipede wriggled past; an earthworm gliding. The soil grows very cold and I retreat deep into my shell.
What will it be like, that crack, splitting me in two? No longer myself as roots and shoots emerge.
Will I remember the darkness when I return to the sun?